God of Death
Chapter One: Beyond the Veil Cold blows the north wind; Thick falls the snow. Ye who love and regard me, '' ''Let us join hands and go together. '' ''Is it a time for delay? '' ''The urgency is extreme! '' ''The north wind whistles; '' ''The snow falls and drifts about. '' ''Ye who love and regard me, '' ''Let us join hands, and go away forever. '' ''Is it a time for delay? '' ''The urgency is extreme! '' ''Nothing red is seen but foxes, '' ''Nothing black but crows. '' ''Ye who love and regard me, '' ''Let us join hands, and go together in our carriages. '' ''Is it a time for delay? '' ''The urgency is extreme! ''- Bei Feng, the Book of Songs General Shigekuni Yamamoto slipped deeper into the embrace of death, and his senses of the living world slowly began to fade. The cacophony of pitched battle subsided, and soon all that reached his ears was the gentle whisper of snowflakes as they carpeted the forest floor. The trees around him blurred as the darkness enveloped them, and he found that the only distinct feature that remained was the lurid flame caged within the lantern next to him. As he stared at its quavering light, the cold continued to mercilessly creep into Yamamoto's insensate body, and the blood pooling under him froze solid. His eyes never left the flickering flame, as he awaited the release of oblivion. Insanely, the last thought that raced through General Yamamoto's mind was that he didn't own a lantern. ---------- "Found it!" the shrill, unmistakably high pitched voice of a child crowed. Yamamoto's eyes widened in surprise. ''Was the enemy so cowardly as to send children into combat? "Leave this place. A battle is at hand. One as small as you has no place in a war." The young girl he addressed cocked her head inquisitively at this pronouncement, and her crimson ears flicked forward to hear more. "What war?" Yamamoto looked around him, and as the child’s question had implied, there was no sign of battle. He didn't even appear to be in the same stretch of forest where he had been wounded. Miraculously, Yamamoto was able to sit up in spite of his serious injuries, and immediately discovered that there was no sign of them on his body. After standing and patting the loose snow from his haori, he once again queried the mysterious child, "Where am I? What is this place?” The fox-girl smiled at his confusion, and her bushy red tail swished in amusement. Holding the lantern aloft in her hand, she illumined the forest around them. "This is the forest of lost souls. Are you lost, Mister?" "I think I may be… What manner of being are you?” the warrior asked. He felt strangely at ease around the lantern and its diminutive bearer, in spite of his confusion about his circumstances. The status of his troops, the battle tactics, and all of the other normal tensions of command seemed so distant, so disconnected from him. As though it was all a bad dream. “Me? I’m Ayano Ayumu, but my friends call me Ayu, and I am…”, In the blink of an eye, Ayu transformed into a small red fox cub, “... a kitsune.” In shock and surprise, Yamamoto stumbled backwards from the supernatural display, and fell as he slipped on a bank of wet snow. The young fox yokai laughed at his surprised overreaction, and Ayu transformed back into a semi-human form (her ears and tail were still present; it seemed she had not yet mastered her transformations). A mischievous grin plastered her face as she struggled to keep the laughter in. Yamamoto stood again (with as much dignity as he could manage), and brushed the loose snow off of himself again. He would have been irritated by the child’s lack of manners, if not for the overwhelming despair that began barreling down upon his broad shoulders as realization and understanding struck him. “I’m dead. This place… this is heaven? Or did I end up in hell?” Yamamoto suddenly grabbed the fox spirit roughly by her shoulders, “Please! Tell me!” A smooth voice, accompanied by the lilting chiming of bells, answered him, “You won’t find answers by handling my daughter so roughly.” The figure that spoke appeared to be a thin, unarmed human man with slanted eyes and a calm demeanor, but his threat was obvious. The vibrantly colorful silks and bells adorning the stranger’s body were the mark of a performer, and his plated gray hair hinted at experience. Behind him, beyond the treeline, were numerous brightly colored lights of differing hues, all moving slowly between the trees. “We Kitsune are performers by trade, and you were once a warrior.... is that right, Lost One? Come with me, and I will answer your questions in return for your services as a guard. The night grows long, and these forests teem with the souls of the restless dead and hungry spirits.” Yamamoto released the struggling child and addressed the newcomer. “I was a hero, a warlord, a general, a husband, a father, and a brother. But now I am alone, and I am a blade without a master. I have nowhere else to go… I would be happy to join you on your journey, wherever it may lead us. This desolate place holds nothing for me.” ---------- Yamamoto blessed and cursed his fortune for the hundredth time since awakening from the damp snows of the forest. The tribe of kitsune that guided him through the wilderness were a noisy lot, and their rambunctious music playing and gaudy lights were as likely to scare away lesser spirits as they were to attract strong ones. Although his right hand was numb from the cold, he kept it firmly gripping the sword hilt as his eyes scanned the gaps between the trees for danger. Several times already, the caravan had been assaulted by marauding bandits who were keen on stealing the treasures of the kitsune. Once, the bandits had almost managed to overpower him, but the kitsune had been able to summon fantastic illusions to scare the thieves away. He marveled at their magical prowess, and briefly considered that his own presence might be their true entertainment on the journey, but this conjecture fell through as they encountered their first real threat. A massive bipedal creature the size of an elephant reared out of the trees, with grasping black claws and a pale mask. Yamamoto had only moments to spare as the hollow released an ear-splitting shriek of hunger and bounded towards the carriages. Interposing himself between the charging brute and his guides, he dodged and rolled low to avoid a slashing claw. Three jagged fissures were rent into the frozen ground, the closest mere inches from Yamamoto's head. Finishing his roll, Yamamoto unsheathed his sword in an instant, as he put two well-placed cuts onto the abomination's ankles. Losing its balance, the charging monster rolled forward, carried by its momentum and a lack of traction, and crashed into a row of thick trees. The crash itself kicked up a dense cloud of snow and snapped some of the tree trunks. Yamamoto was still deliberating on how to finish the evil spirit's life, when one of the trunks came flying at him through the air. Yamamoto hadn't anticipated such a feat of strength, and was ill-prepared to dodge it, but due to luck and the poor visibility, the log fell just short of its trajectory, and embedded itself a full four feet into the rock-hard soil at his feet. He had almost no time to contain his surprise before a second and a third trunk spiraled towards him. Reacting on instinct, rather than any conceivable plan, Yamamoto ran forward, up the treetrunk, as the two logs penetrated and destroyed the ground behind him. With a mighty leap, he lunged forward across the expanse of snow between him and the hollow. The masked jaws reared out of the mist, and Yamamoto swung his blade overhead, putting all of the might of his body and momentum behind its edge. With a loud cracking sound, his blade punctured the mask of the hollow, sinking nearly halfway into its head before stopping. Yamamoto felt a familiar thrill of victory, just as the left fist of the monster lashed out at his body, sending him flying. The former warlord spun end over end in the snow, before skidding to a halt twenty feet away. He could taste blood... and judging by the trouble he was having breathing, at least two of his ribs were broken from the blow. He gaped in horror from his position on the ground, as the monster stepped forward towards him. Its ankles were still spurting blood, and their injuries were inhibiting its movements... but still, it was coming. His blade was still embedded in its gory head, and hundreds of tiny cracks radiated out from the gash in its mask. Yamamoto tried to stand, to escape the demon, but he wasn't nearly fast enough to avoid its reach. Grabbing hold of him in one hand, the hollow squeezed, its claws slowly penetrating his body, eliciting a scream of pain. It pulled him close to its maw, to extinguish his life and devour him. In desperation, Yamamoto grabbed hold of the creature's mask, just underneath the cut, to distract it with pain. And with his other hand, he grabbed hold of his blade. The ploy worked; the hollow reared back, roaring with agony, and Yamamoto was released from its grip as it tried to shake him free. Reversing his position, Yamamoto straddled the raging monster's neck and with every last ounce of his remaining strength, pulled his hilt backwards. What remained of the hollow's face ruptured outward in a juicy and crunchy mess of flesh and mask fragments. The creature moaned, stumbled forward a few steps, dissipated into a black miasma. Yamamoto was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and passed out. The kitsune that tended his unconcious body after the battle were perturbed by the strange smile on his face; it was more like the grimace of some kind of wild beast. ---------- Yamamoto drifted in and out of sleep as the carriage trundled along. Visions of his previous life swam in and out of his recollection and imagination. Some were sweet, like the birth of his son, or a memory of his childhood with his filial brother. Others were darker, as he revisited his responsibilities to his nephew, the emperor, in protecting the throne. His other nephews had begged for their lives, even as their hands and minds plotted treason against the chosen heir. He had to murder them... for the sake of China. For the sake of his brother's honor. But these excuses gave him no satisfaction as he relived their last, violent moments. His dream shifted suddenly, back to his wife, as she sang him a lullaby and gently caressed his hair. "I dreamed in days of yore of wild love glowing, of myrtles, roses, far locks floating long. Sweet lips, and bitter speeches from them flowing, And mournful strains of melancholy song. My dreams are flown, and broken are my slumbers, Life's dearest vision long has passed away; Naught now remains, save what in plaintive numbers I poured abroad in many a fleeting lay. Thou lingerest, Orphan Song! We, too, must sever; Go, seek the vision that I long have lost. And greet it for me, shouldst thou find it ever. Breath, as thou art, I send thee to a Ghost!" Yamamoto slowly awakened, as the final line of the poem drifted in the air. The gentle voice of Ayu consoled him and her small, warm hands rested on his head. The hanging lanterns of the interior swayed in unison with the shaking of the carriage as he viewed the area around him. He was covered in a pile of silks and fabrics, and he grunted with pain as he sat up. "No! You musnt't. You are still badly injured, ojisan." Ayumu tried to push him back down into the bed as she emphasized her concerns, but she might as well have been trying to push over a mountain with her puny arms. Chuckling, Yamamoto replied, "Your singing has done my spirits good, child, and I am feeling well enough to at least hold conversation. The monster I faced... what was it?" "It was a hollow." The silky-smooth voice of Ayano Daichi revealed itself at the entrance to the carriage space, and the thin, unassuming leader of the fox-tribe continued. "You mortals refer to them as yurei. Normally such a large one is rare, and they are easily dispatched... it is impressive that you, a mere human, was able to defeat it. No, I should say it was miraculous." Daichi bowed suddenly, as if to express an apology, "In truth, we never intended to hire you as a bodyguard, but as a distraction. The forest of lost souls is a dangerous place, and it is not unusual for us to receive a warrior or two on our expeditions. They do not often survive the journey." Daichi raised back up with a wry smile before continuing, "But then, they do not have your skill or instincts as a warrior. Truly, you are a special human." The room lapsed into silence for a few moments, as Yamamoto was unsure of how to take the admission and compliments. Can I truly trust spirits who would have abandoned me to death? Do I have a choice? Yamamoto finally shrugged, and responded evenly, "I have many questions about this world, about its ways. Will you tell me?" Daichi smiled and took a seat on a wicker chair at the end of a small table. "Yes, of course. Never let it be said a Kitsune's dishonest. I'll abide by my end of our arrangement, and answer any questions you pose." "Where are we heading?", Yamamoto asked. Daichi nodded in approval, before answering, "That's good! Dwelling on a past that is behind you is a waste of energy, it is better to always think ahead! Our course is fast taking us out of the forests of the lost, and near to the borders of Doubutsu Kato. To pass into the city through the Rose Wall, we'll need the assistance of the Chiyoko guards. Their services are not cheap for such a large entourage, but for an event as important as this, we could not take any exceptions..." Daichi trailed off as he broached the subject of finances. He didn't seem happy about the expense. Cocking an eyebrow, Yamamoto asks, "What event?" "Oh, you didn't know? The New Year is nearly upon us. A grandiose city-wide celebration runs for a full week, with entertainment and competitions and delicious food..." After whiping some saliva from the corner of his mouth, Daichi continued, "and beautiful women. Of course, none observe it more passionately than the twelve celestial zodiac tribes. Each tribe in Kato vies for a greater position in the hierarchy, and the New Year celebrations are a way they gauge eachothers' strengths. The more elaborate their performances, the stronger their competitors and the more vibrant their displays are, the fewer tribes will try to challenge them later on. Normally our troupe only performs at more regal events, such as the weddings and funerals of dignitaries... but this year is special. An emissary of the kami, a direct descendent of the sun goddess herself, has arrived for the opening ceremony. The city's astir as to his reasons for participating... this is a good opportunity for the kitsune." Yamamoto slid his forefinger into the cleft of his chin and began tugging and twirling his short beard. The sensation of the coarse black hair helped to calm his mind and enhance his focus when thinking. "I see. This opening ceremony... what is that like?" Daichi reclined in the wooden chair, and answered, "It's been many centuries since the last time I attended the opening ceremony. I recall there were fireworks. As I understand it, each of the tribes strives to outdo eachother in a dance performance and a fireworks display, around a large lake in the center of the city. Imagine that! Hundreds of dancers, moving and weaving in rythm to drums and flutes, the thundering roar and screams of the fireworks, and the flashing explosions, vibrant colors and smoke..." Daichi stepped up suddenly, a sly grin plastering the lower half of his face. "I can't wait to see how the city has changed since I left it. Mark my words, human, you'll be in for a sight for the ages." Daichi chuckled to himself as he left the tent, and spoke one last remark over his shoulder, "I need to make some preparations for our arrival tomorrow. We should speak more later." Yamamoto continued plucking on his goatee as he contemplated the head kitsune's remarks. He had not been conscious of the nearness of the new year before he died. The innumerable uprisings and rebellions of his child nephew's imperial rule had dulled him to such minor considerations. Scratching the tufted crimson ears of a sleeping Ayu, Yamamoto tried to imagine the wonders he'd encounter in the city the following day, and soon slipped into a deep slumber himself. The lanterns of the interior continued to shake gently in rythm with the wheels of the wagon as it trundled onward through the snow-laden forest to their destination. Chapter Two: Under the Br'er Patch ::::::::: A Dream of fearful mystery ::::::::: Delighted and distracted me. ::::::::: Strange forms of terror haunt me still, ::::::::: And heart and bosom wildly thrill. ::::::::: I saw a garden wondrous fair, ::::::::: And I was fain to wander there; ::::::::: Uncounted flowerets glistened bright, ::::::::: And filled my senses with delight. ::::::::: The birds, from many a leafy spray, ::::::::: Sand many a loving roundelay; ::::::::: The sun with golden splendor glowed,-'' ::::::::: ''A thousand tints the flowerets showed. ::::::::: Balsamic odors everywhere ::::::::: Came floating on the summer air; ::::::::: And all was smiling, all was bright, ::::::::: As eager to rejoice my sight. ::::::::: And, ‘mid the flower-bespangled glade, ::::::::: On marble floor a fountain played; ::::::::: And there I spied a maiden bright,-'' ::::::::: ''She stooped, and washed a robe of white. ::::::::: Her eyes were mild, her cheeks were fair, ::::::::: Like pictured saint with golden hair; ::::::::: And, as I gaze, methinks I trace ::::::::: A strange, and yet familiar face. ::::::::: Her task, meanwhile, the maiden plies, ::::::::: And chants a song in wondrous wise: ::::::::: “Flow, flow, water flow, ::::::::: “Wash the linen white as snow.” ::::::::: With lingering steps her side I seek, ::::::::: And in a low-toned whisper speak: ::::::::: “Oh gentle maid! So wondrous fair! ::::::::: “Say, who the robe of white shall wear?” ::::::::: “Be ready soon,” she spoke aloud; ::::::::: “I wash for thee they dying shroud!” ::::::::: And scarcely had the words been said,-'' ::::::::: ''Like wreaths of mist the vision fled. ::::::::: ''- Dreams II'' , ''the Book of Songs A vast jungle stretched out before the caravan, the likes of which Yamamoto had never seen, nary could he have imagined. The forests' edge seemingly spanned from one horizon to the other, bordered only by a shallow stream of water which wound about the tangle. Leaves the size of horses fanned across the canopy, and intersperced among them were gigantic flowers of miriad colors and shapes. More distracting still, Yamamoto perceived giant herbivorous insects (he hoped) crawling between the bows of the thorn-covered vines. And above all else, the intoxicating aroma of flowers. Yamamoto winced as the throbbing sensation in his head strengthened with their proximity to the border. Thankfully, Ayumu provided him with a scarf to block the scent, and it did a little good. Fording the stream was a simple matter, it being only a few feet in depth, but the caravan was halted entirely by the thickness of the enclosing plants as they awaited their guide. Ayano Daichi stepped forward to the edge of the forest, and eyed its edge nervously before blowing a whistle. Curiously, no sound emanated from the trinket, but in a short time, a strange figure emerged from the flora. He was a short man (of only four feet tall), entirely covered in green camoflauge paint. His face framed a pair of fearful brown eyes.. his long, silky ears were tied back behind his head with a cloth strap. He strode forth from the forests' edge with a long, sloping gait- he did not have the legs of a human, but rather possessed the lanky fur-covered legs of a hair. As he swept his gaze across the caravan, his tail twitched agitatedly and he withdrew a spear from his back and planted it in the ground before him. "What is this? There are too many." Darting eyes glared at the Kitsune leader and the surrounding travellers. "There were to be thirty-two, no more. I count thirty-three." Daichi bowed his head in way of apology and explained, "We picked up a person on our journey. A skilled swordsman- a fearsome warrior! He can be of assistance to you as you guide us-" "No." The rabbit-man withdrew his spear from the ground, and began to depart. "No, please wait! Surely you can accomodate-", Daichi halted his plea as a long peal of laughter errupted from the little man. As the last laughs fell from his buck-teethed mouth, the dwarf turned and answered derisively, "You Kitsune believe yourselves to be so wise-so cunning. Do you not see the plants before you? Nothing that lives in this tangle, nothing that survives here, possesses one ounce of pity or remorse. One of you is staying behind.. don't dare follow, whoever it is. This place will devour you, mind, body and spirit." Shielding his brown eyes agains the sun, the diminutive obake finished, "We are already late. You must pass through the tangle before sunset, or not one of you will be left alive. Come, now. Follow my voice." With that parting declaration, he bounded into the tangle. Daichi apologetically hunched his shoulders at Yamamoto, and followed behind the Uusagi guide. As the group filtered into the treeline, a strange, incantation-like song was invoked by their guide. Yamamoto weighed the options in his mind. ''Follow the others into a suicidal stretch of wilderness, or die here as food for some wandering malign spirit?'' The choice was obvious to him. For one who has always walked the path of his own destiny, he did not hesitate as he passed into the thickets in the wake of the entourage. Though the group ahead of him was yet only a span of thirty feet, he could already see the plants closing behind him. Wincing as he walked, Yamamoto cursed that he wore such light clothing and sandals. His already-damaged armor offered little protection from the numerous needles and biting insects. Already, the sound of the singing Uusagi was drifting in and out of his hearing, dampened by the thick leaves. Yamamoto hurredly pursued, but try as he might, the grasping vines and undergrowth slowed his progress to a crawl. As the light of the sun set over the expanse of jungle, Yamamoto became irrevocably and hopelessly lost. ---------- ''Walk. Yamamoto took an unsteady step. Breath. A ragged, wretching breath escaped his breath and he inhaled. Walk. WALK. With a stuttering gate, he lunged forward again, bouyed only by his determination to stay alive. To rest in this place would be a death sentence- massive needles with the tensile strength and sharpness of steel surrounded him in all directions. The intoxicating aromas of the flowers dulled his senses and mind. And all over him were tiny scratches and tears- each delivering a small dose of a numbing poison. Every instinct within his body cried out for rest, for release, but he denied it. Intolerable as it was, he had to continue. There were no alternatives. Why am I here? What is this wretched place? I should have ended in the snow. ''These torporous, rambling thoughts abounded in his head as he tried to hang on. At the edge of sanity, he struggled to maintain his pace. ''Walk. Breath. Walk. Breath. WALK. His legs locked up in ridged defiance of his will, and with a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh, his body plunged forward into the darkness-filled space before him. Yamamoto fully expected to die in that instant, for the razor-barbs to plunge through his ragged armor and pierce his body, but all he could feel was the sensation of falling into water before the inexorable pull of sleep overtook his senses. ---------- The sunlight woke him, along with the sound of a voice. Through his clenched eyelids, the indistinctly bright canopy fanned out above him. The poisons of the jungle have done their work upon my vision, no doubt. "Are you awake, swordsman? It is good that you can see, but perhaps it is better that you cannot see me so well." The voice was harmonious, like silver bells on a sea breeze. It was vibrant and light, like the thrumming of a hummingbird's flight. And above all else, it was elegance, like an untainted white sheet. Like the purity of the sun. "Who..?" His voice died in his throat. It's gutteral harshness hung in the air like a blemish. "I? I am a bearer of good fortune. Here, drink." Her gentle, soft hands tilted his head back. The caress of her fingers through his tangled mane sent waves of pleasure through him. A cool liquid, a pure stream water, was sipped down his throat. To his eyes, she was a fair maiden, with shockingly golden hair, but the finer features of her visage were lost to him."This wellspring is a clean place, a place of healing. Do not be alarmed." Her hands slipped under the strands of his armor, and undid his clothes. Yamamoto was no stranger to the ways of the body. A warlord of advancing years, he had bedded more women than he cared to recall... but this woman's touch was different. In it were no silent invitations, no perversions. In her grip he was as a child being bathed in a stream by his mother. As her ministrations continued, the poisons and weakness in his body slowly ebbed away. Eventually, he was able to rest on his own at the edge of the stream. With the sincerest humility, Yamamoto began, "Thank you, my lady. This tangle would have devoured me. I owe you my life." Silver laughter chimed in his ears, and the maiden spoke, "Your life had been taken some time ago. You owe me your death." Yamamoto pondered that bizarre declaration, as she continued in a refined, relaxed manner. "Your life is over. There is nothing left of it for you. Your armor is ruined, your clothing is ragged, and your sword has been lost in the wilderness. You call yourself a warlord, but you have no army, no loyalty or allegiances to your name. Even your name itself is a shallow lie- a shadow of lost glories. Abandon it." "But it is who I am!" Yamamoto exclaimed in agitation. "It is who you were. That time is over for you. You are dead, Shigekuni Yamamoto, and death is your path. The will of heaven ordained your death." She paced a short distance away from him, and as she turned to face him, her head became silhouetted in the glow of the rising sun. "The will of heaven guides your destiny. To claim that destiny, you must become more than a man. You must embrace your death. You must become a God of Death." Her voice abandoned the airs of being graceful and demure, and adopted a tone of authority, of power. "The will of heaven? What do you mean?" Yamamoto feebly grasped at the nature of what she was saying. Her words seemed to hold some deeper truth, something unknown to him. Whatever she was saying... it was sturring something inside him. Awakening something new. Hope. "Your path is set. Follow the light of heaven, and it will be your guide." Without another word, her indistinct form faded from view as she paced deep into the thicket. With her absence, the all within the clearing seemed less radiant... less, clear. After resting his burning body in the stream for some time longer, Yamamoto got up and changed into the black outfit. Although plain in design and less regal than his normal clothing, it had a kind of practical weight to it. The seems were loose, and afforded his body greater freedom of motion. He wasn't sure if her advice to "follow the light" was to be taken literally or metaphorically... but any direction was better than no direction at all, and so he departed at a decent pace into the wilderness. Once again, Yamamoto was beset by all manner of offensive plants and odors, and biting insects, but rather than thickening with each step, the hazards began to recede, until at long last he could perceive columns of smoke in the cloudless sky. Before long, he was entirely free of the hellish jungle, and had stepped into a network of ramshackle buildings and dirt roads. The buildings themselves were entirely ordinary, though dirty and squalor. The inhabitants were what amazed Yamamoto, as he gazed upon his new surroundings with an intake of stunned breath. All manner of creatures cavorted upon it. Half were human, but the other half were unmistakebly inhuman in form and manner. Some appeared to be half human, half rat. Others were cats, foxes, oxen, horses, dogs... and in spite of their apparent deformities, the humans were treating these monsters with respect... no, deference. To see a man kneel to a dog inflamed something in Yamamoto. It hurt his pride... which at that point, was all the deceased general had to his name. He ignored the slight to his fellow man's honor, however, and walked deeper into the city. Presumably, this was the city of Doubutsu Kato, and true to its name, it was a crossroad for animals. After wandering aimlessly for a few hours, Yamamoto resolved to reunite with his previous company, the Kitsune, but it was not so simple a task. None of the humans seemed to know anything about the tribe he had travelled with. He didn't yet trust the strange yokai of the city yet, as to ask them, so he climbed atop the highest building he could see, to look for a landmark that might identify them. What met his eyes stole his breath away completely. Whatever feelings of self-importance or pride he had about his status, were washed away in the vision of the city. Doubutsu Kato was large, larger than the eye can see. Millions of buildings, tightly packed among a mazework of thin streets and alleys, the largest of which easily dwarfed the imperial palace, dotted the landscape. It was as though, Yamamoto had exited a jungle of infinite size, only to find he had wandered into an infinite jungle of another kind. Stranger still... was the remarkable absense of writing of any kind. It only dawned upon him now, that there were no banners depicting familiar characters. There were no titles on the front of shops, or even upon the larger buildings of the city. The closest thing that came to writing, were simple drawings and symbols. It was as though, he had descended into some ancient age of man, an age before writing took hold. "You there! Get down from there now, you hairless ape!" An angry, petulent voice yelled up to him. One of the horrid rat-things was addressing him, flanked on either side by another two of his kind. The hideous creatures were glaring (Yamamoto surmised) up at him, and were armed with spiked clubs and daggers. They didn't seem to be friendly, and so Yamamoto responded down to them "Apologies, rodent-folk. I'm lost, you see, and I'm looking for-" The high-pitched, whiny voice interrupted, "We don't care who you're looking for, you piece of fish-bait, we told you to come down here. But nevermind that. Stay right where you are, we know how to knock you stinking humans down a peg." With a smirk, Yamamoto replied, "I'd like to see you try." and immediately felt foolish, as he lacked his blade. At once, the ratlings began climbing up the side of the building. Yamamoto knocked a ladder down, but to his shock, this didn't slow down the fast approaching creatures. Their clawed hands easily gripped the stonework of the building as they climbed hand over hand (foot over foot?) to the top. Thinking fast, Yamamoto grabbed a nearby flagpole, wrenched it out of the rooftop, and assumed a defensive posture. The ratlings topped the edge of the building, and began circling him. It was clear, though he was outnumbered five to one, the creatures were cowards at heart. They taunted him, threatened him. "Should have just paid the fine, human." "Your body is probably worth a few Ryo. It's got plenty of meat on it." A few picked up rocks and other projectiles, and began hurling him with them. Big mistake. With a practiced grace and a speed few could register, Yamamoto not merely blocked the stones, but deflected them back at their origin. One of the nezumi was struck soundly in the head, and losing all sense, yelled in rage and charged forward. The others, now adequetly sure he would be the one to assume the brunt of the old man's defense, surged forward around Yamamoto. Their knives and teeth were quick, but Yamamoto was no stranger to gang tactics, and their sloppy method of attack and poor coordination were no match for his skill. The pole in his hands blurred, twisted, blocked and spun, and one by one, the rat-human abominations fell to his barrage. But in spite of his success, Yamamoto's concern began mounting as more of the creatures mounted the walls below him. In a short time, he would be entirely overwhelmed by their numbers.